


To the Lakes and Canada

by Kare



Category: Wolverine and the X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: A not so camoe Avengers-Cameo, Friendship, Gen, Traveling, low-level-angsting, original character in a minor role
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 19:44:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 8,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8070256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kare/pseuds/Kare
Summary: While Logan might not be exactly the best role model when it came to lot of things, when it came to hightailing the hell out of Westchester, he sure knew the way:Just go. They are going to figure it out soon enough.





	1. Just go

**Author's Note:**

> Just to make it clear from the beginning: this thing will have 13 chapters of various lengths. They are all already written. I will most likely not find the time to post them in one go. Let's say you should have the entire work... around Wednesday? Just for those people who never read anything until it is finished. (And it's around 9k, so you probably won't need the entire day for this.)
> 
> Logan will appear about halfway through. So no pelting me. You have been warned. ;)
> 
> Apart from that: hope you enjoy. And kudos would be highly appreciated, because I think I wrote on and off on this little baby for the better part of two years. Other people manage a book or an entire series in that time. XD

Things could be so frigging simple.

 

She honestly didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of it sooner.

 

While Logan might not be exactly the best role model when it came to lot of things, when it came to hightailing the hell out of Westchester, he sure knew the way:

 

Just go. They are going to figure it out soon enough.

 

She had added a feminine touch by actually leaving a sheet of paper, stating when she would be back. And that had been that.

 

Now she was on the road. With a borrowed car, a bit more then 1.000 dollar. And two months to spare.

 

She was determined to make the most out of it.


	2. Kitty's chapter: Studying in New York was brilliant. It was fun. And it allowed her to cover almost every subject under the sun.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xavier’s phone call had caught her by surprise.
> 
> But if the Professor thought one of her favorite chicas needed her, then Kitty sure as hell was going to jump to the rescue.

Xavier’s phone call had caught her by surprise.

 

Kitty had taken up an university course in journalism right in New York. And yes, she was having the time of her life. It was brilliant. It was fun. And it allowed her to cover almost every subject under the sun.

 

Her straight-forwardness turned out to be handy in this kind of job. And the things her mutation allowed her to worm out of people weren’t without their benefits either.

 

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see Rogue. If the southern lady really was in New York, that was great news! But… well, there were so many deadlines these days. Kitty would have appreciated a bit of a fair warning. Or maybe a chance to schedule this meeting about half a year in advance.

 

And if the Professor thought one of her favorite chicas needed her, then Kitty sure as hell was going to jump to the rescue.

 

And it wasn’t as if the girl was trying to hide.

 

Kitty had introduced her to a bar or two. And on the fifth try Kitty found her: in a cozy little diner, which was serving Rogues favorite root beer float and turned a blind eye to her putting up her legs on the cushions and snuggling up with a book for an hour or more.

 

Must have been that southern charm that allowed her to get away with that.

 

Seriously, this chica didn’t look troubled, she looked relaxed.

 

Especially considering that she obviously already fought her way through a burger and half a pizza.

 

And she was currently reading… Capote. Neat.

 

“Hey, Rogue-y. How’s it going?”

 

And the point is: Kitty knew, Kitty just frigging knew, that there was no way Rogue would answer this frankly. Just as she knew that she could not ask flat out. Because Rogue was a lot of things. Loyal to a fault. Easily charming, if she wanted to be. Deadly, if the need ever called for it. But she also was secretive unless she could help it.

 

This had the potential for a really long conversation…

 

…and the point was: this turned into a long conversation, but for completely different reasons.

 

Kitty was easily swayed to do something haywire.

 

So, Rogue, off to see New York? Sure thing.

 

If all the girl needed was a change of scene, New York was just the place to turn to.

 

So Kitty bombarded her with enough recommendations to last for weeks.

 

Yes, Rogue vetoed Lady Liberty. “Not a big fan”, she called it. Understatement of the year. But other than that?

 

Coney Island; the best places to go Avenger-Spotting; the Metropolitan Museum of Art - just because it was Rogue-y she was talking to; The Bronx Zoo; The Rose Center for Earth and Space - because Kitty had been there lately and it had been a lot more amazing that she had thought; a few dozen shopping tips; a few second hand book stores; a few more shopping tips… and maybe a few more shopping tips still. And maybe a few not so subtle hints where to pick up hot guys around campus.

 

Among bits of gossip left and right about people Kitty had not seen in ages time just flew by.

 

Of cause Kitty offered Rogue a key to her flat. And finally pried herself away. Because she had to continue working, of course.

 

So, another mission accomplished, she texted the Prof. back.

 

_‘Rogue’s just on a short holiday. Wanted change of scene. Nothing to worry.’_

 

And so Kitty did not worry.

 

Because Rogue had given her no reason to.

 

That said chica did not pop up at her place that day… well… she might have been sightseeing.

 

And seeing that Kitty got sidetracked by a bigger project and was hardly home herself over the next one and a half week…

 

Surely, if there had been anything, Rogue would have called her.

 

So, there, no need to worry. Absolutely no need to worry. Right?


	3. Coney Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The best thing, without a doubt, had been Coney Island.

The best thing, without a doubt, had been Coney Island.

 

Candy floss and gloves didn’t go together.

 

But she had found more then enough things to do on her own, including a joy ride or two.

 

And she had treated herself to a guided tour around the area by a real human being - doing something touristy just for the fun of it.

 

And just as she was sitting on a bench, enjoying a coffee and the last pages of her book, something caught her eye.

 

She didn’t mind the guy who took a seat on her right. She might have looked because the light caught on his metal hand and blinded her for a moment. But it was nothing that would stop her on the last seven page. All the more since the guy beside her did a short assessment of her, smiled politely once and just turned to stare at the ocean. And Rogue knew better than to ogle guys with a three day beard, slightly longer hair and piecing eyes.

 

Only when she placed her makeshift bookmark within the last pages of the book and looked towards the water, did she became aware that he was likely waiting for someone.

 

Or maybe he was listening to the lull of the ocean… nope, the way he looked around: waiting.

 

And it was strange how one of her more low-key plans - one where she didn’t have to worry about getting mugged, murdered, arrested or something - almost required more courage then an amusement park ride.

 

And for a moment she thought she did brilliantly.

 

Get up, throw away coffee, leave book behind, mission accomplished.

 

Or it could have been. If it had not been for said guy, standing up only a few second later, pointing out that she had forgotten her book. At the same time he was eying the book as if it might be a bomb ready to go off.

 

Rogue knew she was blushing because she could practically feel her face heating up.

 

At the same time her body went through other reflexes as well. Run, fight, Logan-taming… The last one made her tilt her head to the side, frowning.

 

For reasons incomprehensible to her, that guy actually reminded her of Logan in a way. A wild, proud animal, ready to strike and not really one to trust.

 

And from there it was a split second decision. Okay, maybe not the most sensible one. But everyone who reminded her of Logan deserved a chance.

 

Because god knows what would have happened to her if she had not found him back then.

 

So she consciously made herself as nonthreatening as she could, put on her best smile and responded with her best _‘I am just a confused flake’_ charm a rather well-phrased… “Uhm… no?”

 

Which seemed to do almost nothing to ease that guys mind.

 

She smiled a little warmer and consciously turned her left palm towards him, just to show it was empty, while using her right hand to muse her hair up. Maybe it was a little flirty. But non-threatening.

 

She turned her face back towards the beach while stating, in her best matter of fact voice “If you found it, it is yours. The sticker on the last page says so.”

 

And she continued looking at the ocean. One second, two, three…

 

“Bookcrossing?” He sounded so confused.

 

“Well, it seemed a good idea at the time.” And Rogue tried, really tried, not to laugh. “Basically you found a wild book. You can give it shelter for a while and pamper it with affection, but sooner or later it will want to be free again. So you release it back, for the next one to find it. Or you can just skip all that and abandon it right here on the bank, leaving it for someone else to find.” _Well, and if you post about it on the Internet, that would be neat._ But she didn’t think bringing that up would help any.

 

The man still looked at her as if she just had spurted a third head or something, though almost simultaneously shrugging as if he heard stranger things in his time.

 

“So…”, he kept turning the book over in his hand. “Why would you… abandon… a book?”

 

“Well… for sensible reasons.” _Yeah, totally._ “Because… it has a right to meet other people it might like. And because even a books life should be more then a permanent parking space on a shelf. Not to mention that I might be running out of space. And… well… because it is good. Others deserve to read it too.” And she smiled as he still turned it around in his hands, still not sure what to do with it.

 

On another day she might have marveled at the fact that his metal hand was no hindrance while flipping through the pages. But now…

 

She tried a different angle. “Look, it is nothing like _Breakfast at Tiffany’s_ , if that’s what you worry about. It is a report of a true murder case from… 1959? There is a really good movie covering the origin of the book. Basically Capote was really good with the facts, though he may or may not have made some of them up. But decency meant he could only publish this when no personally rights were interfered with any longer. So…”

 

And seemingly out of nowhere another man popped up behind the guy she was talking to.

 

Those two beside each other wouldn’t have looked odd at a photo shooting.

 

And basically the following conversation went along the lines of “I am not sure if you should read about murder” vs. “But it is an abandoned book!”

 

They would most likely figure it out. Mister Metal-Hand was currently using a full on blast of puppy eyes of epic proportions. And Rogue just figured it was time get out of this conversation.

 

“Well, like I said…”, she waved, already a few feets away. “You found it. Your choice. But if you release it to the wilderness, try to do a better job then I did, ‘k?”

 

And with that she went off, smiling to herself.

 

There still was a back and forth of “But, Steve…” and “Bucky, look…”

 

And Rogue pondered a bit of gossip Kitty had told her a few hours earlier and whether that meant she had _really_ just book-crossed one of Captain Americas Buddies…


	4. Gambit's Chapter: No one would tell Gambit that he was being altruistic, okay?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had picked Rogue up in the Millennium Park in Chicago and it had been… well.

Okay, no one would tell Gambit that he was being altruistic, okay?

 

But when Professor X asks you to go check on one of his pupils and it happens to be a woman that is pretty easy on the eye… you go and do what you must.

 

Yeah, totally.

 

And if that means you suddenly find yourself in Chicago, off all places, you roll with it.

 

At least that was what Gambit kept telling himself.

 

He had picked Rogue up in the Millennium Park and it had been… well.

 

They had talked, they had walked, they had grabbed a bite.

 

And Rogue had deliberately allowed Gambit to pay for her.

 

He knew the signs and he knew that she was indulging some of his… less finer tendencies.

 

Gambit still tried to figure out how he was to explain to Professor Xavier, that Rogue had been completely content, fine, joking, chipper, content… all the things the man was surely glad to hear. But she still had managed to leave Gambit standing right in the middle of a lively city, with no trace of where to find her.

 

The point was… Gambit wasn’t mad that she had left him standing.

 

The point was that he wasn’t looking forward to explaining himself.

 

The professor would ask questions. And most likely pick the answers right out of Gambits head… in the nicest way possible a telepath could do those things.

 

And while Rogue had been… brilliant, the Professor would most likely not be overly glad to hear that she had taken to swimming in a not exactly empty hotel swimming pool. Much to Gambits viewing pleasure, sure. But probably to the professors horror. Even if the rest of the pool had just been a couple making out on a very far corner and very not-aware of what was happening around them.

 

Okay, she might have only done that to prove a point. Namely that she did know how to spend her time while Gambit tried to win some more funds for a nice evening out. And he may or may not have succeeded, no less.

 

He also… most definitely enjoyed the view.

 

And it might have stopped him from going back to the gambling table.

 

There might have also been a part where he stole a hot dog or two. Just maybe.

 

And there was a really irritating moment when Rogue “accidentally” stumbled upon a junkyard and started salvaging that thing for bike parts. A good 300 Dollar worth of them.

 

Of cause, what ever that was, Gambit could not have allowed her to pay for something like that herself. Not that girls and tools and fast machines didn’t go together. But since the owner of that yard seemed to mistake Gambit as Rogues _lover_ and there was hardly a way he would set this one right without making a fool of himself…

 

And…

 

Well, maybe he had run through the Professors funds a lot faster then he had intended to.

 

Then again, this was only cash.

 

He wasn’t sentimentally attached to cash.

 

All Rogue had wanted had been a good time. And he had helped… he was sure.

 

Walks in the sun, coffee, food, plenty of good entertainment provided by his charming personality. He had done what he could, really.

 

But somehow, his girl had been distant.

 

Not in the I-am-somewhere-else-entirely kind of way. But in the small ways she had shown him again and again and again, that her mind was elsewhere. That maybe she was plotting and planning or… just a bit more interested in the world around them then in a conversation with him.

 

It was… okay, really.

 

It didn’t sting.

 

He just wondered if maybe he needed a few more arresting ways to flirt.


	5. Harvard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And… it was good.

Harvard.

 

It may not be a holidays destination for normal people, but she liked it.

 

It was old, by American standards. And noble. And lively.

 

And it had a number of people who went about their day.

 

She had gotten another one of those guided tours, just for the hell of it.

 

And she had spend a very, very brilliant evening just watching the rowing teams train on the river. And… it was good.

 

What was better still was, that - while she had not been able to make much money here - she had been able to invite herself to a student party. An evening of talk and drink and cheap food and… okay, maybe a smoke or two.

 

It wasn’t even as if she really smoked. It was more of a way to still her hands. She liked it for that.

 

And she liked the fact that it was still warm enough to stumble into a bakery, first thing in the morning, after spending an evening out, maybe not entirely sober… trying to get a bun… or something…

 

And she loved it.

 

Partly because she knew that studying here or anywhere would never allow for something like _that_. She would never waste away a night like this if she really knew she had a seminar or a course or a lecture or just something in the morning.

 

And partly because this place had everything she came to enjoy. Water, the quiet, a good bookstore, nice people, a place to spend an hour or two idling around lunch, good weather…

 

And a free internet access… okay, for students. But who was asking?

 

Her Capote book had not yet re-surfaced. But Bryson’s _1927_ was supposedly already on it’s way to it’s second destination. And she may or may not have made her way through a couple of plays, which were now scattered around the Great Lakes.


	6. Logan's first Chapter: Okay, so this had been one of the Professors worst idea.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who ever thought that Logan was good with people obviously wasn’t around much.

Okay, so this had been one of the Professors worst idea.

 

Who ever thought that Logan was good with _people_ obviously wasn’t around much.

 

To send him off, on his own, to gather a child that might have gotten a bit too much of his DNA… horrible idea.

 

All the more since Laura Kinney - or X-23 as she mostly referred to herself - obviously wouldn’t become his biggest fan.

 

That they were still in Canada and that he could hardly afford to get the geeks to fly out Laura with the Jet… that was one way of arguing. But damn it, he was tempted.

 

This kid knew too well how to raise his blood pressure. And she was doing it every chance she got.

 

Take the fact that his old, battered camper had collapsed at the side of the road. Normally it would take a bit of tinkering, maybe a bit of grease, and off they were again.

 

This time? No.

 

The kid made his skin crawl without even saying a single word. And he knew she could smell that on him. And if that wasn’t one way to make things worse.

 

So, when a car parked right beside him… yeah… well… he was more than ready to tell who ever it was to just fuck the hell off.

 

He was so busy just standing there, hoping, trying to not release his claws, that the chirpy “Hi, sugar.” took a good one and a half second to register.

 

Things went downhill from there.

 

Laura was out of the van in no time and the ease with which Rogue _obviously_ placed her in the ‘new girlfriend, backtrack a bit’ category wasn’t even funny anymore. A sentiment Laura obviously shared, for her claws where out in no time. And if that wasn’t a surefire way to lead to trouble.

 

But Rogue - _his_ Marie - did the one thing she always did. A soft ‘Oh’, a switch of gears and then her eyes were on the _woods_. Not on him. Not on Laura. On the woods. And he knew she decided to side with him, no matter what, even before she asked, ever casual like, ‘You guys need help or…’

 

He could have kissed her. Right then and there. Consequences be damned. Because there weren’t many people to side with the Wolverine. A lot less who sided with him unconditionally.

 

And Laura did pick up on that. So he just put on that smile of his, indicating the van. “Old thing died on me. Have yet to figure out why.”

 

So Marie let that sink for a moment, seemingly unfaced by the frankly unfriendly stare Laura was still putting on. Then she nodded once. “You can fix it… here… or…”

 

And he knew that the ‘here’ was an afterthought. Something to balm his irritation. And it worked magic.

 

Until his brain caught up with the reality in front of his eyes and without his permission his mouth went “What the fuck are you even doing here?”

 

And _that_ was the reason he kept quite so often. Not talking very much meant not scaring people away who might help. And damn if that kid didn’t look taken aback.

 

“I’m on a road trip…” And there was that pause, where she usually said something endearing. Held back, just for the sake of his sanity. “Finally taking the time to get around a bit. Prof. knows where I am. Even allowed me to take one of his cars.”

 

And there was something in the way she indicated the car that stirred something in him. But he was still to focused on keeping Laura from shredding the kid right in front of his eyes.

 

So he was all too ready to agree to what ever would get him out of this.

 

His car towed to the professors car? Doable. It stung his ego, but doable. Laura in the Profs car, towing him along? Yeah, well, he would life. Him, in his trailer, just getting his bearings back? That was perfect. About time he put a bit of distance between himself and X-23. An unused tow dolly now in the back of his trailer, because Marie had taken off with a bike she now called her own…

 

Well…

 

He hadn’t asked.

 

He really would have agreed to everything.

 

And Maries two-wheeler was far from a bike. Yeah, fast, he’d give her that - after he saw the taillights. But no real bike. Why she was calling it her own. How she had gotten it. Why she had been a bit too eager to get away from them… those questions would come later. Much later. And they would make his skin crawl in a completely different way.

 

She hadn’t lied about the holiday. Of that much he was… _mostly_ sure.


	7. Quebec was brilliant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was everything that on her first visit it had been not.

Quebec was brilliant.

 

It was everything that on her first visit it had been not.

 

Warm, sunny, friendly.

 

Not too warm, mind you.

 

How things changed when you were a tourist.

 

She stayed well away from parts that might remind her of her long and lonely journey… the one she had taken after her parents had kicked her out.

 

But she had been saving up for this.

 

She had gotten herself a small and cozy flat for 4 days. It was hers. She could shower till she dropped. She could sleep in. She could come and go in the middle of the night. She could see the water from the window of her flat.

 

_Fleuve Saint-Laurent._

 

She might have fallen in love with that name.

 

She was checking her book crossing account every now and then. Her Capote-book had turned up in Berlin, of all places. Her plays had been mostly found.

 

And she took extra care hiding a few more around this wonderful, wonderful city.

 

What was even more brilliant: she had made it. Screw anxiety, screw uncertainty, screw doubt. She had made it. She had earned money around here. A good 400 dollars flat in less then two days.

 

It was marvelous, it was brilliant. It was unbelievable, even to herself.

 

And she might have loved to share her thoughts with someone.

 

But then again: this was hers.

 

When she was back at Xaviers place - and she was sure she would be grounded for a loooong time - they would not be able to take this from her. She had the memories of those magical days. They were hers.

 

And as she strolled through the Aquarium Du Quebec - listening to French snippets that reminded her of a time long past - she consciously noted just how _happy_ she was.


	8. Logan's Second Chapter: It normally wasn’t his part to wait on people.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Partly because there were patently few people worth waiting for. And partly because he was horrible at it.

It normally wasn’t his part to wait on people.

 

Partly because there were patently few people worth waiting for. And partly because he was horrible at it.

 

Most people at Xavier’s place put it down to X-23 still rubbing him the wrong way. And he would not correct them on that.

 

But the truth - the frigging, unfunny, worrying truth - was, that he worried.

 

Something was off with Marie. He had sensed it earlier. But he had not taken the time to ask.

 

And now, back here, when the Professor might have let it slip that Logan had come back in the car that Marie had _stolen_ and there was no sugar coating it… this worrying was contagious. And he didn’t like it one bit.

 

Of cause he had obtained the information when she was expected back. Only two weeks of waiting.

 

But those were too fucking long.

 

So when the day finally drew near, he set of with Scotts bike - again.

 

He needed to be able to move. To be able to search her out. And it really wasn’t as if that kid was trying to hide.

 

He had correctly predicted that she would be coming from up north.

 

He found her in one of her favorite dinners. Place a bit too bright for his taste, but all in all: a good sign, right?

 

And she was sitting there, her legs up, some shit by Tennessee Williams in her hand. And even he knew that shit tended to be too damn depressive. And maybe he was getting sweary because he was fucking irritated at this.

 

He had worried and she sat here like the world was a brilliant sunny place.

 

Which… admittedly… it maybe was.

 

She still had the smell of the ocean in her hair. And there were traces of sand on her guitar case… and… when had she even gotten one?

 

When he had last seen her she had a car and a bike. All she now had with her was a small backpack, the book in her hand and that guitar case. And he still saw her ‘bike’ outside. There was no way his girl would have been able to life on that little that long. Not to mention that juggling two backpacks was hell on those… vehicles.

 

But she looked so content.

 

Even content enough that she would not lift her eyes from her book before she finished the last two paragraphs she had obviously set her mind to finishing.

 

When she finally did close the book, she placed a makeshift bookmark somewhere in that play, looked up and smiled. And she looked so fucking content he might pop a vein. Because this was not what she had projected hardly three weeks ago.

 

Logan sat down opposite her, torn between shouting and just hightailing the hell out of here. Because what ever this was, it didn’t feel like his place to ask. Then again, he had promised her to be there for her.

 

And this was why he didn’t do that caring business. You could never be sure if you were doing it right.

 

When the waitress came over, asking for his order, he realized that he had no idea what to do about this. He didn’t know whether Marie would loosen up to him if he waited her out or if it was better to just drag her back to Westchester, let the professor sort it out.

 

He ordered a steak, just because thinking was always better with something to eat. Yeah…

 

And all the while she just laid back her head and watched him from a strange angle, a slightly amused look on her face.

 

It made his skin crawl - and not in a good way - when her eyes finally slid to her bike and she said in a still pleased, but sort of absent voice: “Next time something like that happens, just tell them to send Scott to ground me. He would understand.”

 

“So there is going to be a next time.”

 

It wasn’t meant like an accusation, but it came out like one.

 

All she did was snort. Maybe because she thought it obvious. Probably because she knew how much he tried not to focus on the fact that she might have preferred One Eye to check up on her. That she thought the old pansy ass more capable… or that he probably even was more capable…

 

His skin was getting too tight. His claws itched to be set free, just for the hell of it… and she just sat there and watched him, making his skin crawl even more.

 

“This is going brilliant, sugar. Isn’t it?”

 

No, it wasn’t. From the sarcasm in her voice, she wasn’t thinking so either.

 

He might have growled at this.

 

“Logan.” And it was the first time that she looked him fully in the eyes. “Why are you here? To ask the same stupid questions every one else will? Because then you are not getting more than three. So, what will it be? _‘How?’_ and _‘Why?’_ and… what else is it going to be, sugar? _‘How could you?’_ ”

 

One shouldn’t taunt the Wolverine and maybe - just maybe - she was reminded of this when he started to attack his newly arrived meal.

 

He wisely kept his mouth shut this time, waiting her out. He didn’t have to wait too long.

 

“Look Lo, you get your three questions, I still need to see a friend of mine and afterward you can drag me back to Westchester and tell them you set me straight on what ever it is that Xavier told you to set me straight on… Deal?”

 

He still very much wanted to rip his steak to shreds, but it was a start and he was not going to ruin that. All the more since he sure could do better than the three questions she had suggested. Taking another bite he looked at her - as neutral as possible. “When you stopped for us in Canada, you looked worried.” He chewed some. “You don’t look worried now.”

 

“I don’t hear a questions yet, sugar.” Her voice was mostly teasing.

 

“Why?”

 

Her lips curled, as if she had anticipated that word. “Because I wasn’t sure if you needed help. If you had, I would have stopped. I didn’t want to, but I would have.” She shrugged. “To be fair, I might have taken off a bit too eagerly. Wasn’t really sure whether or not the Prof. had send you. Wouldn’t have been the first time he was trying to stalk me.”

 

“The Professor stalked you?” His eyes narrowed.

 

Marie just grinned, holding up up her hand to indicate that she considered this his second questions. “Sure as hell he did. The car you took has a GPS locator. He knew where I was at all time - at least for the first two weeks. And people I had not seen in ages kept popping up left and right. I am okay with him sending Kitty. I would not even know that she was…” she grimaced “ _‘only partly telling the truth’_ if I had not known her since ages. I am still not sure what to think of Jubes and Piotr crossing my way three times in a single day. But if you had seen the way Gambit was throwing money around, you wouldn’t have doubted that it wasn’t his own either.”

 

Some sort of realization dawned on Logan. He went through the conversation this far, through Marie’s body language, through everything he knew about her… and by the time he voiced his through he was sure about it. “You think he send me, too.”

 

She looked at him. “Yep”, with a plopping ‘p’.

 

And of course Logan wanted to contradict her. No one told the Wolverine what to do. On principle. And… and he noticed with a bit of irritation that he didn’t like it if she assumed that he was just here because someone else told him to…

 

“And what have you been really up to?”

 

That smile that had been threatening to reach her eyes died a little and he knew he had asked the wrong one.

 

Her eyes went back to her bike and… he suddenly realized that he knew that look. That he himself had worn it a lot around her. And that it had never occurred to him how much it locked other people out.

 

“Marie…”

 

She just shock her head. And he tried, really tried to wait her out again.

 

Instead of an answer she just sighted, shock her head again and turned towards him with a look of resignation on her face.

 

“Look, Lo, I really need to be elsewhere. We both know I can’t stop you from following me around, at least not in broad daylight without some preparation. Just have the decency to not show your face…”

 

And with that she got up and left, book forgotten on the table, not even bothering to wait for a reaction.


	9. A Stepford Vibe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The further she drove away from the dinner, the louder her laughter pressed out of her.

The further she drove away from the dinner, the louder her laughter pressed out of her.

 

There was an edge to her laughter, she didn’t particularly like. But the sound just kept spilling out of her. She couldn’t have stopped it if she had wanted to… and if she was honest with herself, she didn’t.

 

It eased something inside her that had coiled tight ever since Logan had entered the diner.

 

God… he would be so angry right now…

 

To be honest: she had expected Scott. More importantly: she would have known how to deal with Scott. Scott wasn’t as boring as he always made people believe. They would have laughed, she would have probably invited him to come along as if inviting him in on a big secret, and that would have been it.

 

Because Marie knew what to tell Scott to make him ease up on her for her actions of the last two months…

 

With Logan though…

 

The memories she had once taken from him had dimmed over time. He had left her with good reflexes, all right. And sometimes, when the adrenaline was running particularly high, she might see or hear or smell something that would have escaped her otherwise. And once or twice it had been that extra bit of luck that had gotten her out of a tight spot alive…

 

But she couldn’t predict his thoughts and moods - not to the extant she had able to shortly after Lady Liberty… or that other accident.

 

Yeah, sure, she could predict that he was ticked of for being challenged to follow her… to the middle of nowhere, no less. But that wasn’t rocket science. Everyone knew the Wolverine hated to be challenged… all the more if it was too easy.

 

And ironically enough it meant that for once - and for Logan being Logan - she wasn’t sure if she could actually explain this whole thing to him…

 

A part of her very much wanted to speed, to feel the wind in her hair and allow miles and miles of concrete to scatter her worries behind her. But a speeding ticket was one of the last things she needed right now.

 

That thought sobered her a little. But there was still the all too familiar anticipation.

 

Because a while back, during some aimless driving, she had found a little town well north of the mansion.

 

She hadn’t known that North Salem still had something like this: a typical American town. With the old, wooden houses, a real avenue for shopping, having all the little necessity of life that small town life could not go without. Skaters, ice cream, buggies, sunny walkways…

 

This town looked a bit as if it had just fallen out of a movie screen.

 

There was a slight Stepford vibe to it that told her to never move here. But for an evening or two it was brilliant. All the more since this town housed one of the best music stores ever.

 

Is was a mix of used and new, a knowledgeable staff and some real bargains.

 

She only ever allowed herself a visit about two times a year. But she always enjoyed it. And this far she had even made sure that no one ever knew where she was…

 

One of the staff… the only staff, really… well, she had not told him about her skin. Not exactly. But she had told him enough that he understood…

 

She knew he didn’t mind her sitting down on the pavement and playing a song… or two… or an hour worth.

 

And it was brilliant. As brilliant as it had been the last few weeks when ever she had done this:

 

She took off her gloves, took out her guitar and left the case open at her feet.

 

Three minutes later she started to strum, another five minutes later she started singing. About ten minutes in the songs started to come together.

 

Rogue had made a conscious decision to not include love songs in her repertoire. But if anyone asked… or if she really felt like it, she would include the Beatles Version of _Norwegian Wood_ … just because she loved the punch line. Otherwise there was some punk, some rock, some 80s classic she was fond of… a bit of grunge. There even was a musical rendition of an Edgar Allen Poe poem. And just for a moment she considered Bowies _Heroes_ as a closing number… because for a moment she remembered, that Lo might be out there, listening in… and another cover would be less awkward… but then again, he might have lost interest by now, turned away bored… closing a chase that had never really begun… and if it was her last chance… she still had a little number, hardly more then a simple melody and a line or two about a sunny day around the Great Lakes…

 

It wasn’t anything much. But it was hers.

 

Afterward she let the strings quiet down on their own. It made a nice humming sound. And she took a lock at the 30 dollars that had appeared in her case during that hour… not all that much. But enough.

 

Mike was taking a seat beside her. Smiling. Talking. Smoking. Carefree. But careful not to touch her skin.

 

She only accepted a smoke after putting her gloves back on and then they talked some more. It was a bit about everything. And a bit about nothing… really…


	10. Mike: He knew her kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one that came into his store and always gravitated toward the exact same instrument.

He knew her kind. The one that came into his store and always gravitated toward the exact same instrument. They might want to play. They might be good. They needed it as a kind of personal vacation. But for various reasons, they would never really allow themselves to be with the instrument they had set their heart on.

 

Most times he understood that they wanted to take ‘good care’ of an instrument and not bring them into a surrounding that might not be ideal. But sometimes he wondered if just maybe those instruments were better of having a real life somewhere not-perfect, where they were loved and cherished and played - instead of just hanging at his walls and waiting for a change of fortune.

 

But well… that was just him and those strange romantic notions his friend had chided him for.

 

Every time she came she would take the exact same instrument from the wall. If he re-decorated she needed a bit of time to find it, but she always sat down with the exact same six-string.

 

When - two months ago - she had finally bought it, he had wondered - just for the slightest moment - if maybe someone had broken her heart or if someone had died. Because when people came here and suddenly bought something that did cost a solid three digit number… well, he had heard a number of stories during his time.

 

She would not have been the first one.

 

And all those other strangers had prepared him well. When she had been about to hand over the money, she had made him promise first - and all serious like - that he would take the instrument back, about two months later. She had stressed, that she would not want the money back, far from it. She would take how ever much he saw fit. She just needed to know… that there was somewhere safe where she could leave the instrument _after_.

 

He had not asked what ‘after’ meant.

 

With everyone else he might have concluded a prison stint or something… but with her…

 

Maybe that disease guess had not been all that far from the truth.

 

Of cause he had promised, very much expecting to never see this particular guitar ever again…

 

But here she was now, ready to go through with her promise.

 

He turned the guitar this way and that.

 

There was a light scratch of two, but nothing that a bit of polish would not solve. Maybe a new set of strings.

 

This was looking decidedly decent. He was trying to work what he could afford and how low he could go without being insulting, just to plant the idea in her head, that just maybe she would like to keep it instead.

 

He went for 120$, which was about a third of what this woman had originally paid for it.

 

It didn’t seem to do the trick, so Mike started to lay it on a little thick. Why, yes, a little hint that there may or may not be someone who had proclaimed an interest in that guitar and of cause the instrument would need a bit work before it could be handed over to somone…

 

Mike never quiet understood just why he found himself bodily yanked forward into the face of a small and angry dude.

 

He appreciated that the girl tried to get the stranger to ease up. He also decided to not take his chances with this one.

 

If angry dude wanted the guitar, he could bargain with the girl directly. Angry dude would have none of that. And the girl didn’t seem too pleased either. Mike could tell the exact moment when her “this is a friend” registered in the other guys head. And Mike understood that angry dude had just gotten angrier.

 

In the end it seemed most sensible to hand the guitar from one to the other and to hand the money from the other to the one.

 

In the end it came down to a zero loss game. And he liked to keep it that way.


	11. A Stepford Vibe - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There had been reasons why she had not wanted to take the guitar back to Xaviers.

She had wanted to stop Logan.

 

There had been reasons why she had not wanted to take the guitar back to Xaviers. Namely the rather founded fear that it probably would not even survive the first week. The institute just wasn’t a place for something like that…

 

Logan, as was so often the case, seemed immune to any kind of logic that included the behavior of other people.

 

She knew that arguing would not get her anywhere and that Logan was most likely able to read the irritation right off her anyway.

 

Plus: she had more or less promised Logan to follow him back to the institute anyway.

 

In hindsight: what had she expected, really?

 

Well, something _worth_ all the trouble she would get into if the Prof. heard about her taking her gloves of in the wrong context…

 

She was about to get back on her bike and follow him ‘home’, when Logan surprised her by taking a table at the closest dinner.

 

It looked so alien: him, with a guitar case at his feet, out in the open, where people could see and judge him for… basically for hanging out with a girl that could likely be his daughter.

 

She knew Logan hated small towns because of things like that. It always felt like everyone was watching and most of them were judging. And still Logan sat her down, ordered a beer for himself and a soda for her.

 

It was a tad surreal.

 

But if she had learned anything during all those years, then that it was sometimes best to just wait him out.

 

It took half a beer for him to finally act.

 

And she had to smile when he pulled a strangely familiar second hand edition of _Much Ado About Nothing_ out of the back of his jeans.

 

Somehow she wasn’t surprised by this. At least not as much as she probably should have been.

 

And this time it was him who broke the silence. “You got to help me out, kid. Prof. makes it sound like you had a melt down or some shit. And you sit around, play your guitar and loose books on a semi-regular basis. I admit that I don’t get it. But why would this make more sense to One Eye then to me?”

 

“I never said he would _understand_. It’s just easier to lie to him.” She did smile at that, already knowing Logan would love the next sentence. “Did you know that our fearless leader ran away about four times before they finally promoted him? I would have told him something about a change of air or a different scenery and that should have been that, really. It’s true after all.”

 

Scotts disappearances had had a lot to do with the way he and Jean had kept dancing around each other, never quite making up their minds. But really: Rogue didn’t feel like spelling it out that clearly.

 

And Logan just grunted that annoyed grunt of his. “Make up your mind kid. Either you are lying or you ain’t.”

 

She just shrugged her shoulder. It was the version she would tell everyone else. It was close enough.

 

And she could pinpoint the exact moment when he decided to ask bluntly. “What happened?”

 

And the question still made her skin crawl. It missed the point so completely. “Nothing happened, Logan. _That_ is the entire problem. If I had a cracked rib I could point to it and people would leave me alone. I don’t have an injury and still needed to get out of there for a bit, so people assume the worst. But the point is: they were all there: Kitty, Gambit, Piotr, Jubes, Storm, Jean, Scott, even the professor. They were all there the day I decided I needed a break. But non of them reacted in any way similiar.”

 

And she found that now that she had started talking, it was close to impossible to stop.

 

So she laid it down for Logan.

 

It was such a ridiculous story, really. About four month ago most of the mansion had taken one of these educational day-trips in a group of cars. Rogue had sat in the back, because apparently that was the right place for the untouchable girl to ensure that she would not hurt anyone. And she had had the perfect vantage point during the entire drive. The day had started pleasantly enough. They had been off to some museum out in the woods, a good two hour drive away. There had been rain the last… two weeks, basically. And Rogue had noted with some interest, that the car was pushing itself through puddles of water that probably would cover her ankle if she cared to open her door. Next they had climbed some winding roads up a small hill and a kind of hysterical silence had settled over the group. The road wasn’t really wide enough for two cars going in different directions. There was no real guard railing or anything of the like that would have served to keep them safe. They were practically driving through a cloud, so visibility was far from great. And from the vertical wall of stones from her right came a quite strong stream, that surely was not supposed to run over the entire road and disappear over the other side of the road. And when they finally reached their destination, there had been three little ponds, usually connected with the slightest tickle of a stream. Now the water had the speed and force of a torrent. And while everyone else decided to take their time and have some coffee and just idle around, Rogue had been unable to shake the realization, that all it would take would be a failure of the circulation system and the cars on the small, wild parking lot would be swept away. And they would be stranded, here, in a little place of nowhere that seemed a lot less friendly with the twilight and seemingly endless mist.

 

“And, Logan, I _know_ it is ridiculous. But I understood that day that I could have died. And don’t get me wrong: The next time Eric and the Professor have a go at each other I might get caught in the cross fire. The next time a S.W.A.T. team raids the mansion I might not make it. And I understand that if I take on a mission there is a real chance that I might die out in the field. I even understand that stupid example about a bus ending my life on some random, sunny Tuesday. But a day trip to something that is basically a set of model railroads in an outdoor setting, with some info signs in between? That is _not_ supposed to be dangerous. And I understand that, with these people around, it probably was the safest place on this planet. But it did not feel like it. And you… _I_ just started to wonder. I had not wanted to make that trip, but here I was. And all the trips I had wanted to take? I put them off. You know all the excuses: maybe, sometimes, later, when I have time, when I am old, what ever… And I actually understood that day that the whole difference between taking a trip and dreaming about it, is the moment you set out and leave. And what they are really pissed about is that I did not sit down and talk it through with them first. But you know what would have happened? They would have tried to figure out when, just maybe, they can spare me for a week, provided nothing important comes up. And look at Scott: there is always something important out to ruin your day. A whole month? Out of question. Much less two. And they would have tried to be reasonable. Plan a route. Calculate money. Where will you stay? How can we reach you? What do you want to see? And it would have never been _that_. It would not have been ‘sit around, play your guitar and loose books on a semi-regular basis’, as you put it. No, it would have been one compromise after another. And they would have insisted on me keeping my gloves on. It would not have been something that would have _actually been worth it._ ”

 

Her hands had fluttered this way and that while she spoke. And now, at the end of her speech, they just froze mid-motion, before she self-consciously tucked them back to herself. This whole thing was so ridiculous.

 

“It doesn’t sound ridiculous.” Logan concluded. His smile surprised her. As did his willingness to speak more then two sentences apiece. “It sounds honest. And you looked happy… with your guitar.”

 

She flexed her hand into a fist reflexively. “Back at the mansion they won’t even let me near the Steinway without my gloves. I somehow doubt that the Professor would share your assessment of this situation.” And she felt how her eyes got dragged back to the guitar case at Logans feet. “I’m serious, though. That instrument will likely not even survive it’s first week at the mansion. It would have been better if we would just leave it here.”

 

And somewhere in his answering grin the Wolverine shown through. But instead of voicing a plan he just asked her what else she had seen. And between wry smiles and anecdotes and another three drinks they passed the remaining afternoon.


	12. Logan's third chapter: If you ever need someone to side with you when you run...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...there are few more obvious choices than the Wolverine...

If you ever need someone to side with you when you run, there are few more obvious choices than the Wolverine.

 

Because Logan understood the need to just run wild for a bit.

 

And he had seen her: radiant with her guitar. Animated when she talked about the things she had done.

 

And he understood - probably better than her - that her few carefree weeks on the road (and the road was never entirely carefree) had probably done more for her then the last three years at this place combined.

 

It had loosened something in her. She smiled more readily. Especially when something sparked her memory. Which in itself was a win.

 

So he had done the sensible thing for once. Well, as sensible as the Wolverine did get.

 

He had told the professor to keep his snooping to himself - which might have involved just a tad of strong language. And maybe a hint of claws.

 

And he had ensured that people saw him with her guitar case. Because no one broke the belongings of the Wolverine. Simple as that.

 

And a spare key to his room and some ground rules later and he had to admit that being woken by a post-war classic topped being woken by ones own screams.

 

Things improved from there.


	13. Even after two years...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...Logan was still the only one who officially knew that the guitar belonged to her.

Even after two years Logan was still the only one who officially knew that the guitar belonged to her.

 

Of course, there had been tons of gossip - as there were always bound to be.

 

But seeing that she and Logan rarely occupied his room at the same time… they just had to keep guessing.

 

Which they did.

 

And the nice thing about guessing is, that so few people cared to make sure.

 

So the next time she felt like disappering - almost two years later - she only left a note for Logan.

 

“Want to be gone for a bit. Care to pick me up the day after?”

 

And beside that note she placed a flyer for a little rock festival two states over, which included her stage name in the line up.

**Author's Note:**

> Looky here. Tell people you need time and that stuff almost edits itself.
> 
> Still not sure if I caught all typos, but then again: English isn't my first language.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed.
> 
> In case anyone is wondering: the true bit this thing is build on is Maries memory of her school trip. Something similiar happened to me on one of the most boring holidays I ever had. I realized that day that if you can die in the middle of nowhere you can as well go to London for two weeks... which is what I did half a year later. Not really sure if I conveyed just how much of a reasonable conclusion that was, but at least Marie made some nice memories, which also should count for something, right?


End file.
